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Once considered an affluent neighborhood in Vargeras, Fontainebleau has gone downhill. The century-old homes - once the pinnacle of opulence - have been reduced to crumbling shells of chipping paint and questionably tilting foundations.
Snow swerved to the side, causing two of the knives to miss him entirely. The third hit his arm, eliciting a grunt of pain as it dug into his flesh. When he turned back, it was in time to see Alek shift into a red mist and rush towards a storm drain. He muttered a curse under his breath. Following him down there would be beyond difficult.
He lowered his gun, and lifted his hand to pull the knife out of his arm with a wince. The blade had sunk in fairly deeply, but it didn't seem to be hindering his movement. He tossed the blade aside and moved to crouch beside Bastien to look over his injuries, but before he did, he caught his eyes. They were eyes that said 'I'm fine', before moving towards where Alek had gone.
Snow nodded, before looking to Bowen and VINDEX. He didn't have the brute strength to tear that drain-cover off himself, so they could follow Alek, but he assumed one of the others likely did.